


A Knight in Slytherin Green

by Natassi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-03 20:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14576919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natassi/pseuds/Natassi
Summary: Hermione Granger starts her seventh year off with a betrayal by one of her best friends. Heartbroken, Hermione is unsure if she's still the same war heroine everyone believes her to be. Draco Malfoy is there to remind her exactly who she is.





	1. Hermione Knows

Ronald Weasley would pay.  
  
This was Hermione’s first thought as she stared at the bold, hurriedly inked front page of the Daily Prophet. The words ‘GOLDEN TRIO BETRAYED BY RONALD WEASLEY’ stared at her, and below the headline was a lengthy article detailing the man’s previous night’s activities. She had immediately unwrapped her copy of the Prophet when her owl had delivered it during breakfast, and she had every intention of reading the latest book reviews by her current favorite author. She almost flipped to the literature section right away, when a sudden flash of red had caught her eye on the cover. It wasn’t enough that it was front-page news, but this particular story accounted for six whole pages in the Prophet, more so even than last month’s coverage of the Quidditch World Cup or the article on her and Ron’s initial engagement.  
  
She clutched the goblet in her hand so tightly that she could feel the metal digging into her skin. She was sure that her eyes were flashing, as they always did when she witnessed some injustice or felt particularly passionate about one cause or another. However, today the cause of her anger wasn’t house elf abuse or unwarranted prejudice, but a certain red-haired boy whose hair certainly matched her face at this point.  
  
She could feel Harry’s worried eyes on her, and she feared she looked unhinged in that moment. She certainly felt crazy. How long had she been staring at the front page? Had she been mistaken, was she imagining things? A quick reexamination of the paper confirmed that she was most definitely not imagining anything. There was Ron Weasley, the man she had loved and so passionately kissed during that moment in the Chamber of Secrets, quite decidedly attached at the mouth to some blonde haired twit with a dress shorter than anything Hermione owned. The article said the picture had been taken last night in a tavern in Diagon Alley. Hermione watched in horror as the girl leaned suspiciously close to Ron, smiling flirtatiously. Ron seemed to say something to the girl which made her giggle and move closer. The next picture was far more explicit, showing a few minutes worth of Ron heavily snogging this same girl, and in public no less!  
  
“Is everything alright, Hermione?”  
  
Harry was peering over her paper, straining to read the headline.  
  
Hermione looked up and pressed her mouth into a hard line.  
  
“See for yourself” she said, thrusting the paper across the table towards Harry.  
  
Harry stared at the cover, and seemed to do a double-take. Hermione would have found this funny, if the situation were different. He adjusted his glasses and took another look at the paper. Meanwhile, Hermione couldn’t help noticing that more and more owls seemed to be dropping copies of the Prophet upon every table in the Great Hall. Had everyone seen the paper already? Was she already the laughing stock of Hogwarts?  
  
Harry’s suddenly angry expression met Hermione’s.  
  
“How could he do this?” Harry slammed the paper back to the table, disrupting his abandoned breakfast and nearly toppling his pumpkin juice. “Are you sure this is real?”  
  
“I’m not sure Harry. But it’s not entirely out of character for Ron.” It was true that Hermione had fallen in love with Ron and had seen him as her best friend. Once he had proposed immediately after the War’s end, even before Reconstruction had begun, Hermione had been almost sure of her future. That Ron was brave and kind and loyal. That Ron wouldn’t do this.  
  
This new Ron, however, was unpredictable. Once the Wizarding World had gotten back on its feet and begun rebuilding, everything changed for the Trio. Suddenly, there were award ceremonies and galas to attend, fundraisers to appear at, reporters that wanted answers. Harry, Hermione and Ron’s lives were thrown open to the world, yet still Hermione figured that her and Ron’s engagement was rock solid.However, Ron seemed to love the newfound-attention, the numerous women clamouring for his autograph, a picture, a kiss. Even with his family still grieving, Ron seemed determined to not think about the loss of his brother, and dragged Hermione to every social event one could imagine. He was constantly receiving free Quidditch tickets in the mail, and after seeing six Chudley Cannons games in a row, Hermione had refused to attend another one. Ron then took to attending games without her, and so it went with every party, dinner or appearance. Neither Harry nor herself wanted much to do with the spotlight or the hordes of reporters who stalked them night and day, yet Ron seemed to embrace his new lifestyle. She had seen Ron drunk on numerous occasions, and they had fought several times on the subject.  
  
“You don’t understand, Hermione! We’re legends; the Wizarding World wants us to be celebrities!”  
  
“I quite understand Ronald.” She snapped back. “I just don’t see why you have to go to every party in our honor, and I definitely don’t understand why you must be thoroughly intoxicated at every function!”  
  
Ron seemed to frown at this, and slammed the bottle he’d been nursing back onto the bar counter. “This has always been my dream, Hermione, I wish you could get that.”  
  
Hermione almost laughed at the memory. No, this new Ron was nothing like the one she fell in love with. But they had all grown, hadn’t they? The War impacted them all differently, and she had hoped that her relationship would stand the test of this new Ron. As she looked back at Ron’s face on the Prophet, she felt herself near tears. She couldn’t cry in the Great Hall, for Godric’s sake, not with an increasing number of students staring at her.  
  
“Where is Ron anyway?” Harry glanced at the empty seat next to her and began scanning the Great Hall. “Maybe this is all one big joke, at least he could clear it up.”  
  
“I don’t believe we’ll find him here, Harry.” Hermione suddenly wished the floor would swallow her up. “That picture is from late last night in Diagon, and as I was up reading all night in the common room and would have seen him enter, I’m quite sure Ronald didn’t come home last night.” Even as she said it, the words nearly broke her heart again.  
  
Harry’s eyes bulged. “You don’t mean he...not when you two are… you mean to say he slept with that bint?!”  
  
“That’s exactly what I mean to say, Harry.” Hermione looked down at her plate, and thought that she might certainly cry.  
  
She was already planning out what the rest of her day. After fleeing from the hall, she would curl up in the Seventh Year dorm, eat smuggled ice cream from the kitchens, and read one of those trashy muggle romance novels she had brought along with her. Although she had a full day of classes, she knew she couldn’t stand anyone to see her cry over Ronald Weasley, especially when she was thoroughly embarrassed in front of them all.  
  
Suddenly, she felt a newer pairs of eyes on her. She looked up from her plate and across the Hall, and was startled to find Draco Malfoy giving her a curious look. She had never really looked at Malfoy since they’d returned to school, and it was in that moment which she felt most confused. For a second, she swore she saw something akin to compassion in his eyes. No, that couldn’t be right. It must be pity. She saw the Prophet laid flat in front of him, and knew that he must pity the lowly Mudblood, who couldn’t hold down a Pureblood man, even when she had trapped him into an engagement. She looked down at her ring, the one Molly Weasley had passed down to her, the one that Ron had proposed with on that summer day at the Burrow, and suddenly it was all too much for her.  
  
Ignoring the eyes on her, Malfoy’s infuriating expression, and Harry’s shouts of concern, Hermione bolted from her seat, and ran determinedly out of the Great Hall. She could deal with Ron later...


	2. Draco Knows

“Have you heard the news?”

Draco Malfoy looked up from his breakfast and over to Blaise Zabini’s grinning face. 

“What is it now, Blaise?” Draco resumed the task of prodding his eggs around his plate with his fork. He had hoped for a quiet meal before his Advanced Potions class. “Did you shag some new girl this weekend? Or better yet, have you found a girl who can tolerate you?”

“Ha ha, Draco.” Blaise rolled his eyes at the blonde and leaned in closer. “I’ll forgive your insult, but only because this news is life-changing. In fact, it might be the most earth shaking bit of gossip to hit Hogwarts all semester.”

The blonde sighed heavily, only encouraged to continue his solitary breakfast. Blaise was an incorrigible gossip, rivaling even Pansy Parkinson. Draco’s friend made it a priority to know the scandalous secrets of the entire student body- often before they knew it themselves.

“You know I don’t care about the gossip at this school, Blaise. Gossip is for Hufflepuffs and brainless Gryffindors.”

Blaise, now impatient to share his discovery, reached into his bag and pulled out a folded paper. Draco realized that it was this morning’s edition of the Prophet.

Blaise waved the paper in front of him. “You’ll probably want to hear this.”

Draco highly doubted that.The Prophet never had anything worthwhile, and usually nothing was true, especially the articles about him or his family. “Isn’t that this morning’s Prophet? How come you’ve got a copy, before everyone else?”

“You of all people should know that money talks. Father had it in high confidence that this morning’s edition would be...interesting, and so he had one of our people owl me a copy first thing this morning.”

“Yeah?” Draco gave up the pretense of finishing his breakfast. Zabini had finally caught his attention. “And what is so important, Blaise, that you just had to have a copy?”

Blaise shrugged, pushed Draco’s bowl to the side, and laid the front page of the Prophet on the table. His finger landed on the headline. “Just the disintegration of the famous Trio as we know it.”

Draco stared. The headline read ‘GOLDEN TRIO BETRAYED BY WEASLEY’. Beneath it was a lengthy article, followed by several apparently candid shots. The pictures alternated between the youngest Weasley boy and some blonde woman, flirting at a bar and then snogging the daylights out of each other.

Draco curled his lip in disgust. Wasn’t Weasley engaged to Granger? He didn’t think he could ever forget the image of Granger, hanging off the arm of the foolish looking redhead, flashing her measly ring in front of a barricade of reporters. The Prophet had talked of nothing but their engagement for weeks, and Draco has gotten sick of hearing about the entire affair. The press had already predicted the wedding date, location, even the kind of dress that Granger would wear. He was certain that she would be constantly showing off her ring to everyone, like any other witch at Hogwarts would, but she had been rather demure about her relationship since they had returned.

If Weasley had cheated on Granger, this was big news indeed.

“Does Granger know?”

“Probably not, since she hasn’t been charged with murdering Weasley yet.” It was true, Granger was known for her fits of rage for all sorts of trivial things, like endangered forest animals and wages for house elves. If she knew about this, they would be able to hear her battle cry from the dungeons.

He glanced around. “Does anyone else know about this?”

Blaise flashed a conspiratorial grin. “Not that I know of. But they should be finding out in a few minutes.”

Draco watched as dozens of owls came soaring in through the stained-glass windows of the Great Hall. Each one had letters and a large copy of The Daily Prophet tied around their leg. They arrived at the Hufflepuff tables first, then some flew to his table, and then one small, gray owl behind the rest flew confidently to the Gryffindor table and landed delicately in front of a small, brown-haired girl.

Granger.

Draco watched as the girl petted the owl in gratitude, and then gently untied the parcel from the owl’s leg. She unwrapped the Prophet and eagerly unfolded it in front of her, no doubt searching for more articles about her beloved Potter or Weasley.

Suddenly her whole posture changed, and Draco could see her tense from across the room. She seemed frozen in shock, and not even Potter’s whining could get her attention. She looked angry. Who wouldn’t be? All of Hogwarts was now a witness to her secret.  Maybe she would punch the Weasley boy in the face, just like she had Draco in their third year. He craned his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Gryffindor brawl.

Instead, his eyes connected with Granger’s, as she had snapped out of her trance. Her eyes widened and Draco was surprised to find a great deal of sadness in the Gryffindor’s face. Suddenly, his enjoyment at the muggleborn’s plight had vanished. Her face reminded him too much of his own mother, of the emptiness in her eyes that he had witnessed an innumerable amount of times.

He watched as Granger climbed out of her seat at the Gryffindor table and made a run for it. She dashed out of the Great Hall, receiving alarmed looks from fellow students.

Where was she going? 

“It seems that the Gryffindor love triangle has been upset.” Blaise had settled into his seat and was now piling food onto his own plate. “Weasley is even more stupid than we thought. Granger might be a muggleborn, but she’s the only halfway decent girl that Weasley could have a chance with.”

Draco nodded in agreement. Weasley was always the punch line to Slytherin jokes, and Draco’s hate for the red head had only been strengthened with time. Although McGonagall had urged reconciliation between the houses, especially for Seventh Years, Ron Weasley had personally led the charge of isolating Slytherin House entirely. Slytherin and Gryffindor had always been fierce rivals, but post-war Hogwarts had proved to be dangerous for all members of Draco’s house.  Even First Years had begun to hex Slytherin students in the corridors, entirely unprovoked, and the teachers seemed to be looking the other way. If he could fight Weasley without ruining his recovering reputation, he would gladly give the man a few black eyes..

He didn’t know how he felt about Granger. They certainly weren’t friends, and they were barely even acquaintances, but there seemed to be an unspoken truce between them. Even Potter had taken a break from stalking him around the school. Draco didn’t need any more students throwing death glares his way or first-years looking for Dark Marks on his arm. He had left that part of his life behind, and was looking forward to making a new name for himself as an Auror after Hogwarts. As much as it killed him to know, he owed a great deal to Harry Potter and his friends. If Potter had decided to terrorize Draco, all of Hogwarts would have followed suit. It was only because of Granger and Potter’s strange truce with him that he’d been able to get through this Seventh year.

Did he feel bad for her? Maybe. But she’d be fine without Weasley, better even, and by next week she’d have her pick of any guy in the school. She was an extremely capable witch, and as a war heroine, she could have an office in the Ministry before she graduated. Meanwhile, Draco had to worry about his N.E.W.T’s and needed every connection he could find to get even an entry-level job.

“Earth to Draco.” Blaise reached over and poked the blonde with the end of his fork. “ I have to say, I’m intrigued as to why you’re mooning over Granger.”

Draco shot his friend a rude hand gesture and started packing up his bag for Potions. At least he could get a head start on his essay due Friday if he headed to class early. 

“I’m just imagining the look on Weasley’s face when Granger Vanishes his dick .” Blaise burst into laughter. “Granger may not be much to look at, but she’s always good for a bit of entertainment.”

Draco knew this wasn’t entirely true, since he had caught his best friend on several occasions looking through the Prophet’s glamour spread on Granger. St. Mungo’s had held a charity ball during the summer to raise money for the orphans of the Second Wizarding War, and the Trio had agreed to give interviews to the Prophet for publicity. For Hermione’s article, they had included several glamour shots of her in a short dark blue sundress, smiling and answering questions about her many social causes. Her hair had been halfway pinned up, accentuating her slender collarbone, and for a moment even Draco Malfoy had been captivated by Hermione Granger.

This was before the interviewer had moved the camera to her left hand, asking about her ring for the millionth time that week. Hermione had blushed, and extended her hand so that the light caught the facets of her ring. She went on to answer questions about her  _ brave _ and  _ handsome _ fiance.

So much for war heroes and their virtues, Draco thought. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco spotted Pansy entering the dining hall, flanked by two of her Slytherin girlfriends. She waved in their direction and started for the Slytherin table. Blaise groaned beside him, obviously not looking forward to another of Pansy’s mindless conversations. Draco could feel a headache coming on at the thought of her voice, and he had the sudden urge to pull a Granger and sprint as fast as he could away from Pansy.

On the bright side, even if he hadn’t gotten the reaction he wanted from the Golden Trio this morning, he had Potions with Granger next.She would certainly be in class, plotting the downfall of her fiance. He might even offer to help her, if it meant he never had to see another red headed idiot like Weasley ever again.

 “Let’s go to Potions, Blaise.” Draco grabbed his bag and plucked an apple from the table. “It looks like the show is over for now.

  
  
  



End file.
